I can remember just a year ago when I couldn't wait to get out of Lakewood. I could not have run fast enough to leave. And now, well it's funny how a year changes everything.
Now I drive into Sunfield, that tiny part of Lakewood that I grew up in, towards my parents' house, I see all those familiar landmarks and I sigh. Its this weary yet relieved sigh. Like, finally, finally I can relax. I'm home. It's this comforting sigh, this comforting pause. That no matter how bad life gets, or how hard, I'm home and it will be okay.
For the first time, ever in my life, I want to go home. I want to go back to Lake-O. That weird area of Michigan were you live in a town with it's own name, but still refer to yourself as either from Sunfield, or from the Lake-O area, or from Lakewood. In the grander scheme of things its a tiny place really. Out in the country. Very rural. And until this point all I've ever wanted to do was escape it.
Now I want to go back. With every fiber of my being. I want my family next to me to lean on. I want those landmarks that calm me. I want to walk down a street where everyone knows me. Where I'm not the forearm crutches. Not the cripple that everyone here sees. Where I'm just Casandra. I want that sigh of relief to turn into a long exhale. Like now that I'm home it will all get better. It will all be fine. That comfort that home evokes, I want to cocoon myself in it.
And I plan too. Because this summer I'm moving home to one of those tiny little towns, in that tiny little school district in my tiny little home. Not because I have to, but because I want too. I really truly want too.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
The Traveling Hat
Usually when I type out conversations with my family I edit it down to a single conversation thread. Mostly as a kind service to all of you who read this blog. This isn't true to life out at Casa Cramer though. At Casa Cramer there are at least 3 conversations going on at any one time and about six people jumping in and out of every conversation thread.
So here, here is true to life Casa Cramer (sans monikers):
"Wes that is hysterical I need a picture!"
"Why am I doing dishes?"
"Hold still Wes."
"Someone help me with these."
"Tiff get the dish soap out first"
"Where is the dish soap Theresa?"
"Do you guys think the flowers at So Simply were real?"
"Don't know Mom why didn't you touch them?"
"In the basket under the sink."
"What basket?"
"The one under the sink. Try opening the sink door."
"Okay someone else put this hat on now!"
"Oh shit...this asparagus is awesome!"
"Thanks Wes!"
"Mom why can't you make it like this?"
"I have better things to do with my time than cook."
"What are you talking about? You just can't cook!"
"I was born beautiful and intelligent so that I WOULD NOT HAVE TO WASH DISHES!"
"Get off it Tiff."
"Oh my poor honey, does your man have to help you wash the dishes?"
"I wouldn't mock her she might kill you."
"I want to wear the hat next!"
"I wonder if I could put fake flowers out...Casandra do you think I could put fake flowers in the flower boxes?"
"That would be horrible mom!"
"I was asking Casandra! Are you Casandra?!"
"Lucas wear the hat!"
"Tiff your man will do your menial labor for you. You rest your beautiful and learned hands over there."
"OOOO now you made her mad."
"Tiff your turn for the hat!"
"She's gonna kill him!"
"Yeah but she's gonna do the dishes now!"
"Why can't I do fake flowers? I"m getting old kids, gardening is to much for me."
"Oh for god's sake mom you've been fifty for one day."
"Lucas Burns you pick that back up!"
"Mom! Hat!"
"Red or white wine guys?"
"RED!"
"RED!"
"No! No wine! I'm not washing even more dishes!"
"Red it is!"
"Not that red!"
"Why not this red?"
"The other red!"
"Momma I want the hat!"
"There is no other red!"
"MOMMA!"
"Yes there is another red. Just find it!"
"Casandra you have to put the hat on now!"
"No!"
"Yes!"
"It makes my head look fat!"
"What?! Are you serious?"
"Yes!"
"It's your damn hat! Put it on!"
"NO!"
"I am not a hat person!"
"What kind of fake flowers should I get?"
"REAL FLOWERS MOM!"
"The merlot red!"
"Which Merlot red?"
"PUT THAT DAMN HAT ON!"
"I TOLD YOU SO! "
"WASH THE DAMN DISHES!"
"WATCH YOUR DAMN LANGUAGE!"
"Wine's ready!"
So here, here is true to life Casa Cramer (sans monikers):
"Wes that is hysterical I need a picture!"
"Why am I doing dishes?"
"Hold still Wes."
"Someone help me with these."
"Tiff get the dish soap out first"
"Where is the dish soap Theresa?"
"Do you guys think the flowers at So Simply were real?"
"Don't know Mom why didn't you touch them?"
"In the basket under the sink."
"What basket?"
"The one under the sink. Try opening the sink door."
"Okay someone else put this hat on now!"
"Oh shit...this asparagus is awesome!"
"Thanks Wes!"
"Mom why can't you make it like this?"
"I have better things to do with my time than cook."
"What are you talking about? You just can't cook!"
"I was born beautiful and intelligent so that I WOULD NOT HAVE TO WASH DISHES!"
"Get off it Tiff."
"Oh my poor honey, does your man have to help you wash the dishes?"
"I wouldn't mock her she might kill you."
"I want to wear the hat next!"
"I wonder if I could put fake flowers out...Casandra do you think I could put fake flowers in the flower boxes?"
"That would be horrible mom!"
"I was asking Casandra! Are you Casandra?!"
"Lucas wear the hat!"
"Tiff your man will do your menial labor for you. You rest your beautiful and learned hands over there."
"OOOO now you made her mad."
"Tiff your turn for the hat!"
"She's gonna kill him!"
"Yeah but she's gonna do the dishes now!"
"Why can't I do fake flowers? I"m getting old kids, gardening is to much for me."
"Oh for god's sake mom you've been fifty for one day."
"Lucas Burns you pick that back up!"
"Mom! Hat!"
"Red or white wine guys?"
"RED!"
"RED!"
"No! No wine! I'm not washing even more dishes!"
"Red it is!"
"Not that red!"
"Why not this red?"
"The other red!"
"Momma I want the hat!"
"There is no other red!"
"MOMMA!"
"Yes there is another red. Just find it!"
"Casandra you have to put the hat on now!"
"No!"
"Yes!"
"It makes my head look fat!"
"What?! Are you serious?"
"Yes!"
"It's your damn hat! Put it on!"
"NO!"
"I am not a hat person!"
"What kind of fake flowers should I get?"
"REAL FLOWERS MOM!"
"The merlot red!"
"Which Merlot red?"
"PUT THAT DAMN HAT ON!"
"I TOLD YOU SO! "
"WASH THE DAMN DISHES!"
"WATCH YOUR DAMN LANGUAGE!"
"Wine's ready!"
Friday, April 25, 2008
My Little Nurse
"Why are you getting in bed Momma?" Mini Imelda asks as I crawl, still dripping from the shower, onto my bed and collapse with a sigh.
I roll over to face her, pulling my legs up underneath me as I do so, "Momma's just tired today hun."
She crawls up onto the bed next to me, grabs my cover and starts to tug on it. "I'll take care of you then Momma. Here's your cover -" she pats it into place "- and I'll get you bear."
I close my eyes for what feels hours, its really just seconds, and Mini Imelda is back. Bear in tow. She pulls the covers up and tucks him in beside me. "There Momma. Bear always helps me when I'm scared."
I chuckle softly, "Oh I'm not scared hunny, I'm just tired."
She pats my head gently, like she's in on a secret that's just between the two of us, "It's o-tay Momma." And then she climbs off the bed and walks to the banister, "I'll watch Franklin from upstairs Momma. If you need me I'll be right here. O-tay? O-tay."
"Okay."
I roll over to face her, pulling my legs up underneath me as I do so, "Momma's just tired today hun."
She crawls up onto the bed next to me, grabs my cover and starts to tug on it. "I'll take care of you then Momma. Here's your cover -" she pats it into place "- and I'll get you bear."
I close my eyes for what feels hours, its really just seconds, and Mini Imelda is back. Bear in tow. She pulls the covers up and tucks him in beside me. "There Momma. Bear always helps me when I'm scared."
I chuckle softly, "Oh I'm not scared hunny, I'm just tired."
She pats my head gently, like she's in on a secret that's just between the two of us, "It's o-tay Momma." And then she climbs off the bed and walks to the banister, "I'll watch Franklin from upstairs Momma. If you need me I'll be right here. O-tay? O-tay."
"Okay."
Saturday, April 19, 2008
You Got It Boss
Vestibular systems are one of those weird things that no one has ever heard of. Generally they are there, they work, and thinking about them isn't necessary because they are one weird ass system to think about.
In layman's terms your vestibular system tells your body where it is.
Weird huh? How in god's name would your body not know where it is? It's there. Right where you left it.
Here's how it works though. Your vestibular system tells you where your left hand is in relation to your right. It automatically computes how far your left leg is from the floor at any given time based on your height, the length of your legs themselves, and the floor. It also tells your brain where your left leg is in conjunction with your right. Or your right leg.
So if say, just for example, that you put your left hand on a pineapple to hold it still while your right hand hacks it to pieces. Well your vestibular system should tell you without looking at your hands whether you are going to cut your fingers off or not. Or if you are holding a pipe cleaner with your left hand, and cutting with children's safety scissors with your right...let's just say...your vestibular system tells you without looking that your left is outta the way.
Mine is broken! Big surprise! I know I know, it's a real shock.
I was smart enough to look at the pineapple and move my hand. And no it's not even connected to the numbness and diminished senses in my limbs. I could feel the pineapple under my hand, the feeling of it is diminished which makes my grip wonky, but trust me it was there. I just couldn't tell where my hand was.
So big long explain-y to get to this...
...I have the same issues with walking, even at the best times, when I can feel the majority of my limbs, I can't tell without looking where the hell the ground is. Which is why I shuffle my feet so much when I don't have the forearm crutches. It's also why I lock my knees when I walk. And since I've already explain-y-ed enough this post you'll can figure out why I do both those things. You all are smart.
Anyway, Barak my ever grinning physical therapist has told me to knock off the locking of the legs. I am to bend my knees when I walk.
And I blinked at him. And then proceeded to do so, with the forearm crutches, while staring at my legs instead of the wall in front of me. The very nice grinning man made sure I didn't hit it.
And then he told me to do it again and look up.
So I picked up my right leg and moved it forward with a soft (leading) knee and my brain immediately went into Defcon Four:
"We're falling! Shit! Assume crash positions!"
I put my foot down heel first:
"Oops our bad."
I picked up my left leg with the same soft knee when I pushed off:
"BRACE YOURSELF!"
I put it down:
"Sorry...um...our bad...again."
I pushed off with the left:
"Tray tables in the upright positions! WE'RE GOIN DOWN!"
My inner monolgue: "Would you KNOCK THAT THE FUCK OFF ALREADY! SHEESH!"
*chuckles*
That's what it comes down to folks. My brain and my inner monologue duking it out. I put money on my inner monologue winning. She's one tough ass bitch.
In layman's terms your vestibular system tells your body where it is.
Weird huh? How in god's name would your body not know where it is? It's there. Right where you left it.
Here's how it works though. Your vestibular system tells you where your left hand is in relation to your right. It automatically computes how far your left leg is from the floor at any given time based on your height, the length of your legs themselves, and the floor. It also tells your brain where your left leg is in conjunction with your right. Or your right leg.
So if say, just for example, that you put your left hand on a pineapple to hold it still while your right hand hacks it to pieces. Well your vestibular system should tell you without looking at your hands whether you are going to cut your fingers off or not. Or if you are holding a pipe cleaner with your left hand, and cutting with children's safety scissors with your right...let's just say...your vestibular system tells you without looking that your left is outta the way.
Mine is broken! Big surprise! I know I know, it's a real shock.
I was smart enough to look at the pineapple and move my hand. And no it's not even connected to the numbness and diminished senses in my limbs. I could feel the pineapple under my hand, the feeling of it is diminished which makes my grip wonky, but trust me it was there. I just couldn't tell where my hand was.
So big long explain-y to get to this...
...I have the same issues with walking, even at the best times, when I can feel the majority of my limbs, I can't tell without looking where the hell the ground is. Which is why I shuffle my feet so much when I don't have the forearm crutches. It's also why I lock my knees when I walk. And since I've already explain-y-ed enough this post you'll can figure out why I do both those things. You all are smart.
Anyway, Barak my ever grinning physical therapist has told me to knock off the locking of the legs. I am to bend my knees when I walk.
And I blinked at him. And then proceeded to do so, with the forearm crutches, while staring at my legs instead of the wall in front of me. The very nice grinning man made sure I didn't hit it.
And then he told me to do it again and look up.
So I picked up my right leg and moved it forward with a soft (leading) knee and my brain immediately went into Defcon Four:
"We're falling! Shit! Assume crash positions!"
I put my foot down heel first:
"Oops our bad."
I picked up my left leg with the same soft knee when I pushed off:
"BRACE YOURSELF!"
I put it down:
"Sorry...um...our bad...again."
I pushed off with the left:
"Tray tables in the upright positions! WE'RE GOIN DOWN!"
My inner monolgue: "Would you KNOCK THAT THE FUCK OFF ALREADY! SHEESH!"
*chuckles*
That's what it comes down to folks. My brain and my inner monologue duking it out. I put money on my inner monologue winning. She's one tough ass bitch.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Favorite Past Times and Weird Font Issues And Hoping Links Work
I'll be taking classes at CMU this summer. Four classes per day, five days per week for six weeks! Should be fun. Also it will be a ton of driving. Which everyone seems to freak out about.
Me, I'm freaking out about gas prices, but not the driving. I love driving. No wait, strike that, I love driving by myself. It's just me, with nothing to do but concentrate on the road in front of me. Me, the car, the road, and music. See when I drive I always have a cd in. I always have music. It's always up way to loud. And I'm always singing along even louder. And I love it. I love it. And sure, I can drive and sing when my kids are in the car. You should really see the times when songs like Eleanor Rigby come on the cd and all three of us sing along. Or when I put Rent in and the Mad Scientist and I take turns playing the parts. Mini Imelda gets right in on it too. Her favorite song is still Coin-Operated Boy. So if she's in the car this is what you would hear from the backseat:
"Coin-operated boy. Sitting on the shelf. He is just a toy. But I turn him on. And he comes to life. That is why I want - a - COIN OPERATED BOY!"
The last part must always be screamed for good measure. Otherwise it just loses meaning. Now me, I vary the cd's up. I have different mixes, which change weekly at this point. I get sick of a cd, I toss it and make a new one. Then I listen to it nonstop till it too joins the forgotten cd graveyard in my backseat. This morning I made two new ones. At one point in my car you would have heard:
"Silent Night, Broken Night
All Is fallen when you take your flight...
You're in my arms
and all the world is calm
The music playing on for only two...
Ah, look at all the lonely people
ALL THE LONELY PEOPLE....
La fille danse,
Quand elle joue avec moi,
Et je pense que je l'aime des fois..."
I love the melancholy songs, love the honesty in the voices of the people singing them. I grew tired long, long ago of the overly glossed bubble gum pop voices that have taken over the airwaves. Give me humanity! And I'll belt it at the top of my lungs with a mile wide grin on my face. There's just something about music, something about a great song or a stunning vocal performance, something about the drums and guitar, the quickening beat in a song that makes my heart beat faster...the race to the finish in a song when everything gets more fierce, when the musical layers start adding up...some songs just make me smile, some make me grin, and some make me feel like I could really just soar if I tried too. Especially in the car, when it's just me, and there's no one else and I can just let go...
Of course, when I decide to go with upbeat music none of it is child friendly. So the second cd I made is strictly adult ears only. It's not the same as the songs I belt out at the top of my lungs, these songs stir soemthing else in me. They bring out that devilishly wicked side of me. The side that has no problem waltzing into and captivating an entire bar. Actually they tend to bring out the side of me that WANTS to waltz into a bar and captivating everything male and sometimes female. So after I got through the fifteen songs on my first cd, I switched and started belting these out:
" I pick all my skirts to be a little too sexy
Just like all of my thoughts they always get a bit naughty
When I'm out with my girls I always play a bit bitchy
Can't change the way I am sexy naughty bitchy me...
Put me on the table
Make me say your name...
I'll take a friend of yours out to dinner
then take off all her clothes and look for you in her...
I'm just the, I'm just the, I'm just the, I'm just the
I"M JUST THE GIRL YOU LOST TO COCAINE...
I’m taking back the number of the beast
cause 6 is not a pretty number
8 or 3 are definitely better
a is for the address on the letter
to my alcoholic friends...
so fuck you, fuck you, fuck you ...
I'm a bitch, I'm a tease, I'm a goddess on my knees..."
And I have to tell you, if you were in the seat next to me at that point you would not only hear some horribly bad off key music, because I really could give a shit less about sounding anything near decent when I'm alone, but you would also see the single most wickedly devilish smile that ever crosses my face. Something about the songs, about the tone always brings a smile or a laugh or a devilish glint.
Which makes me think that I should be as worried about the cost of blank cd's as I should the cost of gas. I'm betting my six weeks of CMU this summer are gonna see a lot of cd's join that graveyard in the back seat.
Ps. Girls, you can thank me later for the eye candy.
Me, I'm freaking out about gas prices, but not the driving. I love driving. No wait, strike that, I love driving by myself. It's just me, with nothing to do but concentrate on the road in front of me. Me, the car, the road, and music. See when I drive I always have a cd in. I always have music. It's always up way to loud. And I'm always singing along even louder. And I love it. I love it. And sure, I can drive and sing when my kids are in the car. You should really see the times when songs like Eleanor Rigby come on the cd and all three of us sing along. Or when I put Rent in and the Mad Scientist and I take turns playing the parts. Mini Imelda gets right in on it too. Her favorite song is still Coin-Operated Boy. So if she's in the car this is what you would hear from the backseat:
"Coin-operated boy. Sitting on the shelf. He is just a toy. But I turn him on. And he comes to life. That is why I want - a - COIN OPERATED BOY!"
The last part must always be screamed for good measure. Otherwise it just loses meaning. Now me, I vary the cd's up. I have different mixes, which change weekly at this point. I get sick of a cd, I toss it and make a new one. Then I listen to it nonstop till it too joins the forgotten cd graveyard in my backseat. This morning I made two new ones. At one point in my car you would have heard:
"Silent Night, Broken Night
All Is fallen when you take your flight...
You're in my arms
and all the world is calm
The music playing on for only two...
Ah, look at all the lonely people
ALL THE LONELY PEOPLE....
La fille danse,
Quand elle joue avec moi,
Et je pense que je l'aime des fois..."
I love the melancholy songs, love the honesty in the voices of the people singing them. I grew tired long, long ago of the overly glossed bubble gum pop voices that have taken over the airwaves. Give me humanity! And I'll belt it at the top of my lungs with a mile wide grin on my face. There's just something about music, something about a great song or a stunning vocal performance, something about the drums and guitar, the quickening beat in a song that makes my heart beat faster...the race to the finish in a song when everything gets more fierce, when the musical layers start adding up...some songs just make me smile, some make me grin, and some make me feel like I could really just soar if I tried too. Especially in the car, when it's just me, and there's no one else and I can just let go...
Of course, when I decide to go with upbeat music none of it is child friendly. So the second cd I made is strictly adult ears only. It's not the same as the songs I belt out at the top of my lungs, these songs stir soemthing else in me. They bring out that devilishly wicked side of me. The side that has no problem waltzing into and captivating an entire bar. Actually they tend to bring out the side of me that WANTS to waltz into a bar and captivating everything male and sometimes female. So after I got through the fifteen songs on my first cd, I switched and started belting these out:
" I pick all my skirts to be a little too sexy
Just like all of my thoughts they always get a bit naughty
When I'm out with my girls I always play a bit bitchy
Can't change the way I am sexy naughty bitchy me...
Put me on the table
Make me say your name...
I'll take a friend of yours out to dinner
then take off all her clothes and look for you in her...
I'm just the, I'm just the, I'm just the, I'm just the
I"M JUST THE GIRL YOU LOST TO COCAINE...
I’m taking back the number of the beast
cause 6 is not a pretty number
8 or 3 are definitely better
a is for the address on the letter
to my alcoholic friends...
so fuck you, fuck you, fuck you ...
I'm a bitch, I'm a tease, I'm a goddess on my knees..."
And I have to tell you, if you were in the seat next to me at that point you would not only hear some horribly bad off key music, because I really could give a shit less about sounding anything near decent when I'm alone, but you would also see the single most wickedly devilish smile that ever crosses my face. Something about the songs, about the tone always brings a smile or a laugh or a devilish glint.
Which makes me think that I should be as worried about the cost of blank cd's as I should the cost of gas. I'm betting my six weeks of CMU this summer are gonna see a lot of cd's join that graveyard in the back seat.
Ps. Girls, you can thank me later for the eye candy.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Cheesy Poofs Anyone
After three or four days of eating gluten free I wanted food! FOOD! Like, any food I could stuff into my mouth. ALL food that I could stuff into my mouth. Well I should change that, ALL gluten free food that I could stuff into my mouth.
I hate gluten.
Anyway...I don't think most of you saw this or realized it...except a certain male who mocked me endlessly and asked if my gluten free food was spiked with pot...
Which would not surprise me because man did I have a bad case of the munchies.
And now Mini Imelda, after about a week gluten free has the munchies too. She wants food. At one point last night she was crouched, like a rabid cat over her food just shoveling it into her mouth and growling at anyone who got to close. When she couldn't get anymore of her applesauce off the plate with a spoon she hunted down a knife and starting scraping it off! SCRAPING IT OFF! While crouched like a rabid cat and growling! I should have taken photos.
Last night from 4 to 7 when she went to bed that little thing ate:
3 cups of applesauce
1 banana
1 entire box of gluten free mac and cheese
1 cup of peanuts
A shit ton of chocolate
And Ham. Lots of ham.
At 7:30 she walked to the balcony and yelled down at me: "I am sooooo hungry mom! Sooooo hungry! My tummy hurts it wants food sooooooooo bad! Can I have more chocolate?"
Me: "No, it's bedtime hun."
Mini Imelda: "Chips? Can I have more chips?"
Me: *shakes head* "Bedtime."
Mini Imelda: "Applesauce, chips and chocolate?"
I so should have let her come down and eat. Cuz do you know what she did? At 5 am she crawled into my bed, got centimeters from my eyeballs and damn near gave me a heart attack.
"MOM! I AM SOOOOOOOOO HUNGRY!"
I hate gluten.
Anyway...I don't think most of you saw this or realized it...except a certain male who mocked me endlessly and asked if my gluten free food was spiked with pot...
Which would not surprise me because man did I have a bad case of the munchies.
And now Mini Imelda, after about a week gluten free has the munchies too. She wants food. At one point last night she was crouched, like a rabid cat over her food just shoveling it into her mouth and growling at anyone who got to close. When she couldn't get anymore of her applesauce off the plate with a spoon she hunted down a knife and starting scraping it off! SCRAPING IT OFF! While crouched like a rabid cat and growling! I should have taken photos.
Last night from 4 to 7 when she went to bed that little thing ate:
3 cups of applesauce
1 banana
1 entire box of gluten free mac and cheese
1 cup of peanuts
A shit ton of chocolate
And Ham. Lots of ham.
At 7:30 she walked to the balcony and yelled down at me: "I am sooooo hungry mom! Sooooo hungry! My tummy hurts it wants food sooooooooo bad! Can I have more chocolate?"
Me: "No, it's bedtime hun."
Mini Imelda: "Chips? Can I have more chips?"
Me: *shakes head* "Bedtime."
Mini Imelda: "Applesauce, chips and chocolate?"
I so should have let her come down and eat. Cuz do you know what she did? At 5 am she crawled into my bed, got centimeters from my eyeballs and damn near gave me a heart attack.
"MOM! I AM SOOOOOOOOO HUNGRY!"
Monday, April 14, 2008
Um, Okay Then
Last week I met Mike, another student in my Shakespeare class, in the library on campus to help him with essay three. He was panicked! Panicked! So I took his laptop, read through the intro, added two sentences and handed it back.
At which point he read it, looked at me and said, "Holy shit, you just fixed my essay."
Fast forward to today and the instructor is passing back our essays. Mike is freaking out. Completely freaking out about what his grade is going to be. I have to admit, I'm mildly curious myself.
He gets his folder back, opens it, snaps it back shut and hugs it to his chest.
Me: "Good?"
Mike: *tears literally welling in his eyes* "I love you."
Me: "Oh. Okay...good then."
At which point he read it, looked at me and said, "Holy shit, you just fixed my essay."
Fast forward to today and the instructor is passing back our essays. Mike is freaking out. Completely freaking out about what his grade is going to be. I have to admit, I'm mildly curious myself.
He gets his folder back, opens it, snaps it back shut and hugs it to his chest.
Me: "Good?"
Mike: *tears literally welling in his eyes* "I love you."
Me: "Oh. Okay...good then."
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